The Witch's Saga
by wickedmetalviking1990
Summary: Sequel to "Another Journey", where we see our three intrepid heroes thrown into an age of swords, gods, dragons, gold and Ragnarok. How will they find their way home, and what does the future have in store for Elphaba and Fiyero? Enjoy
1. The Crossroads

**(AN: Here we go, the beginning of a new Wicked fan-fiction. It might be cross-over, eventually, but right now it's in a sort of limbo world. I _NEED_** some ideas, people! It is no longer based on "Another World, Another War", though events that happened in such may be mentioned and you might be missing some details if you haven't read those stories, so do so. The concept of various fan-fics that span multiple worlds was inspired, for me, by Wicked'elphaba-fiyero, so thank you. Now enjoy. This prologue has references to other works, and therefore let me state that I do not own Wicked, LotR or Tom Shadyac's famous comedy film.)****

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><p><strong>The Crossroads<strong>

The four figures were enveloped by the golden light. It illuminated a huge cavern, whose bottom poured down into a bottomless abyss and that had no ceiling, just an inky, black, star field of golden and white lights overhead. Pieces of stone buildings of many types floated through the huge room, as if gravity had no meaning here.

In the mind of the three Ozians, they knew for certain that they weren't in any world they were familiar with.

They looked around themselves with wrapped attention at the beautiful, mesmerizing sights that floated all around them. It was quite a spectacle. Large, island-like platforms of rock and stone were anchored to the path on which they stood with "rope" bridges made of chain. On top of these, they saw, were ruins of gray-brown stone, the same color of the rock that made the back-wall of the room. The path which led to the cave, the same one on which they stood, petered out into the abyss, held as if by nothing, and finally terminated on a great plateau of gray-brown tiles.

They saw a lone figure standing there, looking about as if waiting for someone.

Before either of them could consider who this strange figure might be, it raised a hand and beckoned them over with a wave.

"What do we do?" asked Glinda.

"Let's go." Fiyero proposed.

"What, are you crazy?" Elphaba protested.

"Nope, just brainless." he said with a smirk, but this fell when he saw that his wife was all serious. "Come on, it's not like we can't take one, little person on all by ourselves if we have to. We've been through some bad stuff before, it's nothing new."

"I guess you're right."

They made their way down the path to the plateau, Fiyero smiling inside. He knew that things were getting back to normal, well, as normal as they could be with her. At least she wasn't as volatile and combative as she had been before.

They now came upon the plateau, and saw that the man who waved them over was some kind of custodian. He was clad in a simple, gray jumpsuit, and had a broom in his hand. They also saw that he was very old, in many ways: his hair was gray and going white, and in his brown eyes they saw a depth that was perhaps older than any great one they had met in the last year or so.

"You found the way in." the man cryptically said.

"'Way in?'" Elphaba queried.

"Or, 'the way out', if you prefer." he said, smiling as he finished his sentence.

"What is this place?" asked the green woman.

"Oh, its nowhere in particular." he said. "Just a cross-road of sorts."

"Cross-road to where?"

"Everywhere."

"We're looking for a gateway." Glinda spoke up.

"Oh, its here." the Custodian said.

"I have a question," Fiyero piqued up. "Why can't we go back the way we came here?"

"You can't go back." was the reply.

A stunned silence filled the three Ozians.

"What do you mean, 'we can't go back'?" Elphaba queried suspiciously.

"Oh, you can go back to where you came from," he said, pointing back down the path they came. It lead to the cave tunnel, pitch black in contrast to the brilliantly glowing room. "But you can't go back to Oz through the Time Dragon Clock."

"You know of the Clock of the Time Dragon?" asked Glinda.

The Custodian nodded.

"Why not?" Elphaba asked. "Why can't we go back that way?"

"Don't you remember?" he asked. "When you fell through, you were in the middle of this world, correct? There's no back with that way, since there's no twin in this world."

Elphaba thought hard about what was being said. What did he mean by there being no twin? She definitely recalled falling through the Time Dragon Clock in Oz, and finding themselves in the Wilderland forest, with no sign of the Time Dragon anywhere else. Maybe it was a door-way of sorts, between two worlds, and since there was no other "door-way" on the other side in the other world, it was only a one-way door.

"Now you're gettin' it." the Custodian said with a smile.

"Wait," Elphaba said, throwing up her open hands. Her logical self was surfacing out of the confusion of finding this "crossroads to eternity" in a cave in the middle of nowhere. "Who are you?"

"Who, me?" asked the Custodian, pointing to himself. He then shook his head and gazed off into the abyss. "I'm just the help. I keep everything together, cleaning up after the children leave a mess, sometimes dropping in to say my two cents of helpful advice. It's not how it used to be, that's for sure: everybody always forgets the janitor."

"That still doesn't answer my question." Elphaba said, her face turning a greenish shade of violet in frustration. "Who _are_ you?"

"Nobody, really." he responded. "I know everything that goes on, I've seen people come and go. Not for any ill reasons, mind you." He said, raising a hand as he saw Elphaba ready to protest. "No, I don't mean any harm. The time for my battle is not yet upon you. But when you're the janitor, you tend to hear a little bit of everything and know what's going on everywhere. Then with a few eons of time to yourself..."

"Um, you said this was a cross-road of sorts." Elphaba spoke up.

"Yes, that's right."

"To everywhere, right?"

"Right."

"So, does that mean we can go anywhere from here?" Fiyero asked.

"Damn right, son." the Custodian said with a smile. "I knew you had brains in there."

Fiyero had nothing to say, for this was rather a shock for him.

"Which way is Oz?" Elphaba asked.

"Just over there." He pointed to a ledge that branched off from the main plateau. "Just walk down that path, and it's the third island on the left."

Elphaba turned to Glinda. "I guess this is good-bye."

"I don't want to go back just yet." she suddenly replied. "I just found out you're still alive. All those years we spent apart after that day in the Throne Room, I want to take it all back and make up for the time we threw away..._**I**_ threw away, I mean." She was tearing up now. Her eyes were long dry of mascara, for there was no such cosmetic in the world in which they were once visitors.

Elphaba nodded. "Okay, you can stay with us."

The little blond grabbed the green woman in a very strong hug, considering her size.

"Where else can we go?" Fiyero asked, wanting to be important.

"Now _there's_ a path." the Custodian said, pointing to one that suddenly materialized behind him. It led down, a long way down, to an "island" that was very low and close to the darkness. "Just go to the island and drink the water that you find there. Good luck."

One by one, the Ozians said good-bye to the Custodian and then made their way down the path. Then, Elphaba stopped and turned around to ask the Custodian a question. It seemed irrational, for why should he know the answer? But something was nagging at her mind that just had to be told.

"What happens to Fiyero if we go somewhere else?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean," Elphaba clarified. "In Oz, I turned him into a scarecrow. When we came to Arda, he turned back into his old self. If we go back..."

"You won't know until you try." he said. "The question is, will you still love him when he's a scarecrow again?"

"Yes." Elphaba answered, almost too soon.

"I have faith in you," the Custodian said. He then rose his hand and waved them good-bye.

The three Ozians continued on their way down the slope, with Nessarose quietly following after them. It was a long, steep slope down to the island. However, though it seemed very treacherous, the horse did not stumble and so they also had little to no trouble getting down.

Once down, they made their way across the narrow, chain-link bridge that led to the island. None of them dared look down into the abyss, for it seemed all too near and close at hand, almost so much that, were they to reach out, they could actually feel the abyss between their fingers. It was too close for them, and it sent shivers through their spines, particularly Elphaba.

However, they came at last to the island and saw a rock, out of which spilled a small spring whose waters spilled out of a crack in the rock and bubbled down to a small pool at the base.

"Good thing you're not allergic to water." Fiyero brought up, bringing an annoyed scowl to Elphaba's face.

"Even if she were," the voice of the Custodian echoed from above, though he was not shouting. "She would not be harmed. Don't be afraid, drink it."

Carefully, the three Ozians knelt down to the pool, reached down with one hand and brought the cold, clear water to their mouths. Just to be sure, Elphaba made a green bowl with two of her hands and brought up some of the spring's cool liquid to Nessa's mouth, where she drank from it.

A strange sensation overcame them, like the water was clearing a great fog that was upon their minds and eyes that they had not realized had been there before. As they blinked their eyes and rubbed their heads (or shook their heads and neighed in the case of Nessarose), the golden-brown light of the cross-roads room slowly faded as they blinked it away.

They were now on the edge of a great, green, foreverdark forest...

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><p><strong>(Okay, I'm thinking about making this a WickedNorse mythology story. I know, very inappropriate. But if Wicked can thrive in Helsinki Finland, in the heart of good'ol Scandinavia, I think that I can take up the challenge. Please review, and make sure to leave ideas. They are helpful. Stay tuned for more)**


	2. Not Green

**(AN: Here's a very short chapter that gets our heroes started in Midgard and started on their "adventures." We also get a very interesting surprise here abouts)**

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><p><strong>Not Green<strong>

Slowly they started to recover, as if they had drunk a very strong liquor that hit them hard in the head like a sledge hammer, and only now their heads were clearing up. The forest still lay to one hand, but a great plain of grass, broken by mountains in the far horizon and more trees closer at hand, stretched out around them.

Fiyero saw the large bulk of Nessa laying directly before him. A concerned thought filled his head, but it was dispelled as soon as the horse rose to her feet. Everything was okay, it seemed. They had come to this "other world" safe and sound.

He saw a pale-white hand reach out for help.

Though he was renown for his "scandalacious" reputation, Fiyero did not completely forget his manners. He gripped the white-fingered hand in his own and got up, pulling the person to her feet.

For it was a woman, that was for certain. The hand was soft enough, though the palms and fingers felt worn. She was only a few inches shorter than he, with pale white skin and long, raven-black hair.

Fiyero nodded at her and then turned to help Glinda up on her feet. She was still a little groggy from having drunk the fountain. It didn't taste like any alcoholic drink he had ever drank before, Fiyero thought, and there was no bite or burn as it passed down their throats. It was water like anything else, but its affect on his head was remarkable.

It was a wonder Glinda had the strength to stay on her feet.

"I wonder where we're at." Fiyero asked.

"No idea," Glinda said. Then she suddenly gasped. "Where's Elphie?"

"I'm right here." a familiar voice said.

The two turned around to look for the speaker...

And their eyes all but exploded in shock.

That unassuming woman with the pale skin was the speaker. They realized that she was in the blue travel dress Elphaba had worn the past year or so, gleaming almost new after having been mended. At her side was the travel bag that they knew housed the Grimmerie.

Fiyero took a step closer, examining the woman's features closely. The chin was as blade-like as he had once known it to be, with the same pronounced cheek-bones he had once caressed. The eyebrows still swept back the same way they had once done, and it was still the same narrow, slightly protruding nose that sat between the eyes and the mouth.

The eyes. Those were the thing that stuck out the most. They were the most familiar part of all: the same dark brown globes still stared back at him as had that one day in the forest.

But the most disturbing thing was that those two same, beloved eyes were sitting in a face that was, for all the same familiarity it held to the woman he loved, wholly different.

"What are you looking at?" the woman asked.

No, he could not lie to himself. This thing spoke with the voice of his love.

"Elphie?" Glinda asked.

"What? What are you all staring at?" she asked. "Am I bleeding?"

"Uh..." Fiyero said, his un-exercised brain failing to come up with the right words.

"What's wrong?" she asked again. "You're all staring at me as if this is the first time you've seen me."

"But this is the first time we've seen you this way." Glinda said.

"What are you talking about?" she scoffed.

"Look at your hands." Fiyero said.

The woman held up her hands, and gave a cry in shock.

"Am I...?" she asked.

"Not green?" Glinda finished, nodding in confirmation.

"How did this happen?" the pale woman breathed.

"I don't know." Fiyero said. Then, a thought blossoming in his head, he gave himself a visual once-over. Nothing had changed, he was still flesh and blood. A quick glance in Glinda's direction - very brief, since he did not want to remember that incident at the pool - showed that she was still the same.

"I mean," he said at last. "Maybe its because we came to this 'other world.' After all, I changed when we left Oz, if you recall."

"I do," the woman said, nodding. "But I thought you would change back into a scarecrow, not..."

"So..." Glinda said warily after a moment of long silence. "You're still you, just...not green?"

"Will you stop talking about it like it's a terminal illness?" Elphaba snapped. "Of course it's still me. Nothing has changed...just..." She looked down at her hands, wondering if this would be permanent, or if she was ready for a change this drastic.

"Uh, I think we've got company." Glinda said, pointing off away towards the plain.

True enough, a host on horseback were making their way across the plain toward them. Unfortunately, none of them had any weapons so any thought of fighting was driven from their heads. They did not move as orderly as the people of the Mark, for they were not as learned in equestrianism as the others had been. But they were armed and armored, enough to look threatening from beneath their steel-cap helmets and coats of heavy chain-mail.

"You!" one of the men on horse shouted at them. "Who's horse is that?"

"Mine." Elphaba spoke up.

"Ha! A woman riding a horse!" one of the other riders mocked. "That'll be the day, won't it, Garulf?"

"Aye." the first one, obviously Garulf, spoke. "What would you say, Sven?"

"A horse-thief." the second one said, pointing to Fiyero.

"Now wait!" Fiyero objected. He then walked over to Nessa. "This belongs with us."

"Oh, it does, now?" asked Sven. "A liar would speak the truth if it saved him from the rope."

"What does that mean?" Elphaba asked.

"It means we do not believe you." Garulf responded. He then turned to one of the others. "Take them with us."

"Where?" Elphaba asked rather sternly.

"Silence!" Garulf shouted, striking her down with his fist. "On you go, now."

The pale-skinned Elphaba got to her feet, trying hard to ignore the bit of warm, crimson blood that was trickling down the side of her lip, where she bit down when the blow struck her. Fiyero came to her side, with Glinda as well, and they followed their captors onward.

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><p><strong>(AN: Yes, Elphaba isn't green in this story! Don't worry, she'll be greenified by the time we reach the end. It's all well and good. Here's a little interesting thing to wrap your minds around: when I was writing in Elphaba's degreenified appearance, I was trying to capture those features that are common among the other actresses [with the obvious exception being the eyes, which are brown, like Eden Espinosa's]; however, unlike "Another Journey" and previous entries, degreenified Elphaba is not fashioned after Eden, but sort of a cross between Idina Menzel and Kristen Stewart...i'm not sure why. Anywho, stuff will get interesting next chapter, so just wait)<strong>


	3. In The Hall of the Burgundians

**(Haven't touched this story in a VERY long while, but here we go. It will be interesting, I can assure you.)**

**(I know I said I'm not making any more action/adventure stories. But I also don't like leaving my stories unfinished. Therefore, since this was started, I am obliged to continue it. As this is a spin-off of AWAW/AWAJ, my favorite fan-fiction so far [other than Joshua, King of Heaven], I cannot see how it would be affected majorly by my own inadequacies. Hope you enjoy this so far)  
><strong>

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><p><strong>In the Hall of the Burgundians<strong>

The horsemen took their prisoners to a large castle that was nestled on the edge of a river. Here they dismounted and took them into the keep of the castle.

In a stone room of the keep, with hard-wood floors and many banners hanging upon the walls, they came before the king. He was about middle-aged, with reddish-blond hair and a sizable beard. At his right-hand sat a woman at least ten years younger than he, wearing an elaborate head-piece that concealed all of her hair. Behind the throne were two men on the left hand and a man and a young woman on the right hand. The young woman was barely into adult-hood: seventeen, Elphaba assumed.

"My lord," Garulf said, bowing before the king. "My scouts and I found these two. They had a horse with them, who they claim..." He snickered. "...belongs to this woman." He waved his hand forward and two of his guards none too gently thrust the pale-skinned Elphaba before the throne.

"Kneel, you wench!" Garulf hissed. "Were you taught no respect for your king?"

Elphaba was already half-way to her knees.

The king rose from his seat. He then turned to Fiyero. "You, man. Does this horse belong to you?"

"Well, my lord," Fiyero said, quickly bowing before he was reprimanded for such with a chain-mailed fist. "She's not really anyone. We found her, and she's followed us ever since."

"'Her', you mean it is a mare?" the King asked.

"Yes, my lord."

The King nodded. He then turned to the woman at his right, who whispered something into his ear. He nodded and then turned to the strangers.

"Tell me your names." He pointed first to Fiyero.

"I'm Fiyero Tiggular," he replied. "Prince of the Vinkus."

"And who are these with you?" asked the King.

"I am Elphaba Thropp, your Majesty." Elphaba said.

"Uh, Glinda Upland, your Majesty. The 'ga' is..."

The King held up his hand.

"I have a solution for discerning whether you speak truthfully." he rose from the throne, and waved for Garulf and his warriors to bring the prisoners with him. The King's guards followed him as he went, with the woman and the others from behind the throne stepping in line.

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><p>The small group poured out into the courtyard of the castle.<p>

"Summon the stable-master." he ordered.

"Yes, my lord." one of his guards said, bowing and walking off to do his lord's biding.

The three Ozians huddled together, trying to keep their eyes away from their captors, the guards. They were none too gentle when it came to how they treated them, especially with the women.

And she thought women had it bad in Oz, Elphaba thought.

A few minutes later, a thick-chested man with reddish-brown hair and a sparse beard entered the group, and bowed his head when he saw the king.

"You are the stable-master?"

"Yes, my lord."

"Can you tell us if you recognize this horse?" the King said, indicating to two of Garulf's men, who were holding onto Nessa. They had a rope around her neck, for they could not bridle her, and she was neighing and bucking fiercely. The group stood back a little to avoid getting struck by her powerful hooves.

"Perhaps, perhaps not." the stable-master indifferently replied.

"Are you sure?" Garulf, who knew that he would be in hot water if he was lying, insisted. He placed an armored hand on the stable-master's shoulder. "If you're her master, you can calm her down. Now get to it!"

The stable-master warily made his way up to the horse and tried to calm her down. But even his presence made the horse more nervous. With nothing else to do, the stable-master reached for the whip on his belt.

"No!" Elphaba cried. She brushed the guards off her as if they were flies and stood in between the stable-master and Nessarose. Upon seeing Elphaba stand up for her, the horse started to calm down.

"Impressive," the King said. "The horse knows you, it seems." He then turned to Garulf and ordered him to release her friends and expect thirty lashes for false accusation.

"The horse must belong to you," he said at last. "Therefore you are no thieves. Tell me, then, prince..." He turned to Fiyero. "What kingdom do you rule?"

"Uh, the...Kingdom of the Vinkus, in the west." he replied, unsure of what answer the King was looking for.

"You are from across the sea?" the King asked in wonder.

Fiyero gave him a puzzled expression, for the prince knew not of the sea.

"It's a little difficult to explain, your Majesty." Fiyero answered after a while.

"Just the same," the King said. "I would have you explain it, but not now." He then turned to Elphaba. "Please, have your horse placed in our stables. That is, if she will permit it."

Elphaba nodded and led Nessarose in the direction of the stables, led by the stable-master.

"What becomes of us?" Fiyero asked.

"You are guests in my land," the King said. "It is my royal obligation to give you room and board, as long as you choose to stay at my castle."

"Where exactly are we?"

"In the Kingdom of Burgundy." the King answered. "This castle is the fortress of the city of Worms. I am Gjúki, King of the Burgundians."

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><p>Later that afternoon, the guests were given rooms in the castle and were right now by themselves while the King saw to the daily running and defense of his burg.<p>

"Well," Fiyero began, once Elphaba shut the door behind them. "What have we got ourselves into?"

"I'm not sure," Elphaba returned. "I know nothing of this world."

"Weren't you asking around, listening, doing anything?"

"I had to make sure Nessa would be safe. Then I had to make my way back here to find you two." She turned to Glinda, who was looking out one of the narrow windows of their room.

"I'm not entirely trusting of these...Burgundians." she said. "I mean, they were hitting you, Elphie! And now their king just up and starts acting all nice to us? If that isn't suspicious, I don't know what is."

"I'm rather accustom to pain, Glinda." Elphaba responded. "I _was_, after all, raised by my father."

There was a tense kind of morose silence. None of them really knew much about her father, but what they had heard was not good.

In a feeble attempt to lighten the mood, Fiyero spoke up.

"Well, _this_ is new."

"What do you mean?" Glinda asked.

"You're thinking now? What has the world come to?"

This rude remark earned Fiyero a punch in the arm from Glinda.

"I'm not stupid, you know!" she returned.

"I know you're not, Glinda." Elphaba replied, placing a hand on the little blond's shoulder. She was still surprised how lovely the hand was.

Not that she found her friend's green skin anything really ugly. To the contrary, after one got used to it, the whole green thing was actually mesmerizing to a certain degree.

It was sad, though, that the rest of Oz saw her only for her skin and not for anything else. Maybe, she wondered, now that she looked like everyone else, they could get to know the girl beneath the green, the girl only Fiyero and she herself - Glinda - truly knew. Dear Elphaba would finally be accepted: she couldn't be happier.

_Why, then,_ Glinda thought, _do I feel so unhappy every time I look at that pale-white face?_

There was a knock at the door. Fiyero opened it, and a guard stood in the open door-way.

"The queen asks to see the young girl of your group." the guard said.

There was no confusing over who he was talking about.

All eyes turned to Glinda.

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><p><strong>(Oooh, the plot thickens. Elphaba is no longer green, but is the green monster of jealously creeping into Glinda? Whatever will happen in this story! All shall be revealed in time, and you'll get to see more Norse-stuff later on. I may not be able to update as often as I like, because I do not have indefinite access to the internet [moving to CA was a pain, and its not different than TN, just more of the same], so just bare with me. While you're at it, read some of my other stories and tell me if you like them. Don't be afraid of reviewing!)<strong>


	4. Separated Again

**(AN: I'm back with a vengeance! I'm doing a little extra work on this story in addition to my others. Enjoy the new chapter!)**

**(I do not own Lord of the Rings, just mentioning it a little since this story is based on what happened after my tales _Another Journey_...)  
><strong>

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><p><strong>Separated Again<strong>

"This isn't good," Fiyero said.

"Well, hello 'captain obvious'." Elphaba snapped, both annoyed and sarcastically.

"I don't think we should be away from each other." he added.

"You think?" she returned.

"What's gotten into you?"

"What, now there's something wrong with me?" she asked, rising to face him.

"No, that's not what I..."

"It's not like I've not had trouble adjusting to not being green," she snapped, forcing him into a corner. "But I'm also carrying **your** child, we're trapped in some world we've never even heard of, with no way of getting home, but on top of that, they just took Glinda!"

Elphaba collapsed onto the bed, burying her face in the goose-feather pillows. Muffled sobs came from her head.

Fiyero sighed. What exactly had gone wrong? What had he said that put her off like this?

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door.

"Could you give us a minute, please?" Fiyero called out.

In hindsight, that wasn't the best thing to say to one of the Burgundian guards.

The door to their room opened.

To Fiyero's relief, it was not a guard.

Instead, an old man stood in their doorway. He was clad in gray and wore a cloak of wolf-skin upon his back. A wide-brimmed hat obscured the face, but a long, white beard protruded from out of the rim of the hat. He leaned upon a tall staff of ash wood.

"Gandalf!" Fiyero said, excitedly.

"Hmm?" the old man asked. There was a bit of silence as he mused. Elphaba rose from where she lay and turned to look at the new-comer.

"No," he said at last. "I'm not Gandalf. I'm a friend, I'm here to help you."

The old man pointed out the door, where the two Ozians saw, to their complete surprise, that the two guards lay slumped against the side of their door, as if asleep. There was no blood to show that they had been slain, and it seemed unlikely that this old man could have taken them both on by himself.

"Follow me," he said. "The way is clear. We must escape."

"What about Glinda?" Elphaba asked, anxiety rising in her voice. "We can't just leave her here."

"Don't worry yourself, Elphaba Thropp," the old man said, pointing to his concealed face. "She is perfectly safe, and I will return for her, or send someone for her if I cannot."

Elphaba looked shocked that this stranger seemed to know both her name and their predicament. It was, however, the least likely that he could have known her name since she was not from this world, and therefore the most shocking.

"Just who are you?" she asked.

"You youngsters always have so many questions," the old man replied. "Just follow! All will be revealed in due time."

Elphaba exchanged perplexed looks with Fiyero, then they both shrugged and walked after the old man, who was now making his way down the hallway.

For one so old and bent that he walked with a staff, he seemed to have no trouble out-walking them.

"Hurry!" the old man said. "They are sleeping for now, but they will wake soon enough."

"Just a minute!" Elphaba said as they turned a corner. "Tell me who you are."

"I'm a wanderer, like Gandalf." the old man said. "I've seen much that everyone else either cannot see, or chooses not to see. For, I am your rescuer."

"There's a door ahead!" Fiyero said.

The hallway they were in terminated in a locked door. The old man passed the head of his staff over the door and it slid open, leading them into the courtyard of the castle. Beyond, they could see, all was in a great mist and fog.

"The mist will conceal our escape." the old man said.

He then walked down the stone steps, with Fiyero and Elphaba in hot pursuit. They came to the gates of the castle, which seemed to sit open.

"Sir," Elphaba called as they crossed the moat. "Please stop avoiding my questions and just tell me who you are!"

"In good time, Elphaba!" he said. "Now is not good time." He turned away from her and whistled.

A neigh came from the other end of the castle, and Elphaba and Fiyero turned to see Nessarose riding out after them. She rode over to where they stood and reared on her hind legs, neighing loudly.

"Good!" the old man said. "Now follow me, we must get out of sight of the castle. Into the mist!"

The old man set off on foot again, leading them away from the castle. Elphaba put her hands around Nessarose's reins and pulled her along. Fiyero offered to take the reins, but she almost snapped at him again.

"Since when have _you_ cared for Nessa?" she asked.

"How about when you ran out on us?" he responded.

She hung her head, and Fiyero almost thought he saw her start to cry.

But the mist was growing thicker.

"Here we are!" the old man said, coming to a stop.

"Where exactly _are_ we?" Fiyero asked.

"Why, the middle of nowhere, Fiyero." the old man replied. "Now head north, into the land of the Danes. There you will meet a man of the Hammer who will help you."

"Wait, where are you going?" Elphaba asked.

"Away." was all he replied.

"_Where_?" she asked again.

"Do you _always_ have to know everything?" the old man asked, chuckling. Turning his back on the two Ozians, the old man slowly walked off into the mist.

Maybe it was a trick of the sun and the mist, maybe it was their own minds...

Maybe things were done differently in this world...

But the old man seemed to vanish into the mist, fading like sand in the wind.

"Wait!" Elphaba called out into the empty mist. "What about Glinda?"

But he was gone.

* * *

><p>The little blond was escorted by the soldiers to a large room, richly adorned, according to the standards of this day and age, Glinda reminded herself. This room looked little better than the eastern tower of Kiamo Ko. Aside from the large bed and the tapestries that swooped down from the ceiling to create a canopy around it, and some of the small furniture here and there, it was relatively empty.<p>

"My lady," one of the guards announced. "Here is the young woman."

"Very good, soldier." a woman's voice replied. "You are dismissed."

The guard nodded his head and he and his fellow left the room.

Glinda was now alone with the queen of the Burgundians.

"There you are, my dear." the queen said, stepping out from behind a wardrobe.

Glinda gasped as the stately woman seemed to appear out of nowhere.

She was reminded fearfully of Madam Morrible.

A thinner, younger and slightly more attractive Madam Morrible...

That is, if she even had any hair beneath that head-piece of hers.

"Don't be alarmed, my dear." the queen said. "I'm not going to eat you."

Glinda made a noise that was half-way between a sigh and a giggle.

"Come closer, dear." she said, waving Glinda forward. "Let me have a look at you."

With fear clutching at her throat, Glinda walked forward slowly, trying to put into practice all the rules of etiquette she had learned as the Wizard's public speaker. She kept her eyes down and did not look directly in the queen's direction.

The queen carefully examined Glinda from top to bottom, taking in each part of her figure. Glinda was a little ashamed, she hadn't washed since Emyn Arnen (or had they washed her when they brought her in to the houses of healing after the last battle ended?) She probably stank something terrible.

It was then that she noticed a heavy odor emanating from the queen herself.

Did she _ever_ bathe?

"Hmm," the queen mused, after taking all of Glinda in. "A little short and thin, but not a complete waste."

What exactly did she mean by waste? Glinda felt her chest rise in offense at the queen's callous remark.

"It is my belief, my dear." she said to Glinda. "That you will make a fine wife for my son Gothorm."

"Y-Your majesty, if I may..." Glinda began.

"Please, call me 'Grimhild.'" the queen insisted.

"My lady Grimhild," Glinda continued. "If I may ask, why am I to marry your son? I am not from your country and not your subject."

"Oooh, I know, dear." Grimhild returned, her lips pursing into a very fake pout. "But it will all be arranged. Besides, this is how it must be."

"How_ what_ must be?" Glinda queried.

Grimhild sighed as she began pacing around Glinda in a tight circle.

"The world as we know it is changing," she said, placing a hand over her chest and fingering something on her neck. "The faith of our fathers is being driven away from the land of the Rhine by this new god from Rome."

Glinda saw a tiny amulet between the queen's fingers.

It almost looked like a little hammer.

"Oh, it would be enough for us to just live and let live," Grimhild continued. "But it is not so for the priests of this new god. They would have the whole world worship Him. It's impossible!"

She let go of the amulet and placed her hands gracefully before her, clasped together.

"The children of the Hammer," she continued, her voice rising in harshness. "Cannot allow this weak god to take away everything our fathers have given us!" She turned to Glinda, her face easing up.

"My son, Gothorm," she said. "Is a proud son of the Hammer. He will instruct you in the ways of our forefathers, and you will bear him many fine sons to carry on the legacy of our fathers' gods."

"What?" Glinda gasped, throwing her hands over her mouth.

"My _husband_, the King, would not approve." the queen said, completely ignoring Glinda's outburst. "He sees in this new god a chance to become more powerful, so he makes his subjects worship the god of the cross.

"But it's all in hand," she continued, walking towards the narrow window of her room. "I will personally see to it that his own son and heir, my Gunnar, bows down to the Hammer! And his sister Gudrun as well. Your coming to us is the work of the gods, and I will not neglect this blessing of theirs."

Glinda swallowed hard.

Not since Oz had she felt so like a little, insignificant piece on a game-board.

Like she was just a tool in some one else's greater scheme.

The idea was ridiculous! How was she to be married off to some man she never even met? She might not even like him!

And yet something else erupted inside her.

Elphaba and Fiyero had their 'very own happy ending' with each other, and she was left with nothing.

They found love, but she had to remain alone.

During their trials in Middle Earth, Glinda always had a tiny hint of pride in her.

It was the realization that, even _if_ Fiyero had chosen Elphaba over her, she, Glinda, was still considered beautiful by everyone else in Oz.

That made her happy, that made her willing to allow Elphaba and Fiyero to mingle.

But now Elphaba was not green anymore.

A tiny part of the old Galinda was still struggling to stay alive, still fighting to be number one, the popular one, the pretty one, the loved one.

And that part wanted Elphaba to be green again, so Glinda could go back to being the uncontested beautiful one.

* * *

><p><strong>(This is probably going to either go over the heads of the Wicked fans or anger many, since I seem to be ripping on Christianity here. But I'm not. I wanted to give Grimhild more motivation to what she did, because in the legend, her actions didn't seem to have much motivation. Her motivation is keeping her children pagan. Don't worry, I will try not to respect one religion over another [kind of hard to do when you delve into Nordic legends and such])<strong>

**(Oooh, what's happening to Glinda? What just happened with our other two heroes? All shall be revealed soon, just wait...and review, if you so desire)  
><strong>


	5. Slaying the Dragon

**(AN: Here's a new chapter for our other x-over story.)**

**(Just to be safe, let me point out that this story involves "good pagans" and "bad pagans", as well as "good christians" and "bad christians". Grimhild is obviously a bad pagan, since she plots and schemes her own plans while using the beliefs of her fathers as an excuse for her trickery [as you may/or may not see later on. -evil laughter-])**

**(Now enjoy the next chapter!)**

* * *

><p><strong>Slaying the Dragon<strong>

Somewhere in Germania, east of the Rhine...

Fiyero held onto Elphaba from behind as the two of them rode atop Nessa at top speed upon the grassy plains. In an age long before man had civilized their world, the land of Germania was still rugged and wild. One could easily lose themselves, this far away from Worms, in the wild, open plains, or in the forever-dark woods of the Black Forest.

Elphaba missed the rush of flying atop her broom. If only that wretched Dorothy hadn't taken it back to the Wizard, she could be sailing across this land faster than any horse could ever carry her.

But as much as she found riding a horse uncomfortable, there was something different about Nessarose.

She seemed to know how to find the least bumpy, safest paths.

It was as if they were made for each other, Elphaba and Nessarose...

Even more so than she and the broom.

Fiyero, on the meanwhile, didn't like having Elphaba's unbound hair blowing in his face.

It took all the fun out of watching the beautiful country pass swiftly on all sides as they rode onward.

* * *

><p>Mid-afternoon, one gray, cloudy day found the two Ozians come upon a wide, open grass-land dotted with few, tall pine trees and filled with huge, rolling hills. It was, however, barren of all forms of human life.<p>

Or so it appeared at first.

"Look at that," Fiyero said, pointing towards the plain.

Winkies were known for being sharp-eyed, especially the Arjiki clan.

"What is it?" Elphaba asked.

Fiyero chuckled. "You can see the future and houses flying through the sky, but you can be so near-sighted at times."

This earned Fiyero a jab in the stomach from the formerly-green witch's elbow.

"All I see," she admitted at last. "Are a few pits dug in the valley just beneath that small mountain."

"Ah, but just wait a little." Fiyero returned.

The two Ozians waited anxiously, looking down into the valley where Fiyero had instructed.

A man's head poked its way out of one of the pits.

"Someone's down there," Fiyero said.

"They could be an enemy, Fiyero." Elphaba replied.

"No one saw us escape from the castle," the Winkie ex-prince returned. "Besides, we're probably miles away. Who knows, it might be the one the old man spoke of."

Elphaba rolled her eyes.

"Fortunately," she said. "They didn't ta..." She paused, her hand reaching into an empty pouch at her side.

"What's wrong?" Fiyero asked, realizing suddenly that she was concerned.

"The Grimmerie!" she exclaimed. "It must be back at Worms. They must have taken it from me."

"Well, it's a little too late to go back, isn't it?" Fiyero returned. "Besides, I want to see who's down there. We haven't met anyone besides the Burgundians and that old man since we got here."

Elphaba sighed in resignation.

"If we die, it'll be your fault."

"I'll gladly accept responsibility." he responded, matching her sarcasm with his. "Now let's go."

Elphaba urged Nessarose down the hill on which they stood and into the grassy valleys before them.

* * *

><p>It took all of five minutes for Nessarose to carry them down the hill and close to the lowest part of the valley, where the pits were dug. Upon seeing the new-comers, the figure rose out of one of the pits.<p>

"Hail, travelers!" a voice called out to the Ozians. It was the voice of a young man, come into the prime of his strength.

Elphaba said nothing, but urged Nessa closer.

She felt so exposed without some kind of weapon...

Without the Grimmerie...

"Who are you?" the young man asked again.

"Travelers from a distant land," Fiyero stated.

The young man walked over to their horse, and the two Ozians got their first good look at him.

He was tall, an inch or more than Fiyero. He wore no shirt, but pants of simple cloth were upon his legs. The body, they saw, was chizeled and muscular, like one of the Emerald Miners from Glikkus. The young man had shoulder-length hair the color of straw.

But Elphaba was looking at his chest.

Aside from the perfectly fit physique, she noticed a small amulet hanging from his neck upon a chain. The amulet had a face with two eyes set into the top, and a sweeping bottom like a spade.

Or a hammer.

"Are you friend or foe of the Geats?" the man asked them.

"Who?" Elphaba asked. Anything to take her eyes away from that chest.

"My people, the Geats." the man said. "We live far in the north, beyond the Northern Sea. I am a prince of the Geats."

"Why are you telling us this?" Elphaba asked. "You don't know us. We could be enemies."

"Geats do not lie," the man said. "So we are not deceived easily. Besides, if you were..." He lifted the spade and placed it upon his shoulders with his arms behind the handle, flexing his huge muscles. "This is one prince who can fight for himself."

"W-We mean you no harm, Prince...uh..." Elphaba trailed off. There was no name for him.

"Sigurd." the man replied. "In my father's tongue. People of Germania call me 'Siegfried'."

"Fiyero," the Winkie said, then added. "Prince Fiyero."

"Oh?" asked Sigurd. "Where do you hail from?"

"Far in the west." was the reply. They probably never heard of Oz before.

"Are you a Norman" Sigurd queried. "Or a Frank? I can't place your accent."

"W-What are you doing?" Elphaba asked.

"Oh, I'm off to battle a dragon." the prince said, picking up his spade and returning to the pit he was finishing out.

"Looks like you're digging a pit." Elphaba commented.

"Oh, I am." Sigurd said, as he walked to the brink of the pit. "These pits are part of the way I'm going to slay the beast." He tossed the spade into the pit and then lept in himself after it. A moment later, his golden head popped back out, as he continued his work.

"And you, dark-haired lady," Sigurd said, as he continued digging. "You have not spoken your name."

"Elphaba Thropp," she said, her eyes now staring at Sigurd's huge shoulders.

"She's my...uh...princess, you could call it." Fiyero added. As strong as he was, he seemed like an ant before Sigurd.

Elphaba alighted off Nessa and walked over to the edge of the pit.

"Why are you going to battle a dragon?" she asked.

"To prove myself to Regin." Sigurd replied.

"Who?"

"Regin, my mentor. And aside from Grani, my closest friend."

"Grani?"

Sigurd lifted himself up out of the pit with one swift motion and sat himself down upon the soft, cool turf.

"See that tree over there?" he said, pointing to one at the far end of the plain. Elphaba nodded her head.

"That's my camp. Grani was off grazing, last time I checked."

Behind them, Fiyero alighted off Nessa and walked over to the edge of the pit with them.

"Well," he said. "I can see you have your hands full with battling a dragon, so I guess we should be on our..."

"Fiyero, shut up!" hissed Elphaba. The formerly green woman turned to Sigurd.

"Is there anything we can do to help you?"

"I just met you," Sigurd replied. "You are still strangers to me."

"An old man told us to look for a man of the Hammer." she answered. "He was dressed in gray, with a gray hat obscuring his face, and he bore a staff."

There was a moment of silence as Sigurd looked up, examining Elphaba carefully in his sea-gray eyes.

"You've met the old man?" he asked, with a sort of solemnity in his voice.

"You know him?" Elphaba asked.

"Oh, he's showed up here and there before." Sigurd replied. "He gave me Grani, and told me to dig several ditches for when I battle the dragon." He then turned back to Elphaba. "If he's sent you to me, then I must trust you."

"Just because of the old man?" Fiyero queried.

"He's never led me wrong," Sigurd answered. "He gave me that sword over there..." He pointed to the other side of the pit. "...which can cut through iron like butter."

Fiyero's eyes exploded as he saw the huge sword, stabbed into the soft earth. Standing upright, it was as tall as Elphaba.

"So yes," Sigurd finished, returning to his digging. "If the old man says it's so, it must be so."

"So, um..." Elphaba mused. "How can we help?"

"You don't happen to have another spade with you?" Sigurd asked.

Both Fiyero and Elphaba shook their heads.

"Well, I guess we'll have to fix that."

Sigurd rose to his feet and walked over to the huge sword.

"Can you even lift that?" Fiyero asked.

To the amazement of both the Ozians, Sigurd seized the handle of the sword, drew it easily out of the ground and rested the flat of the blade on his shoulders. Just then they noticed that the blade was covered in blue runes that shimmered in the gray, sunless light.

"Easily." he returned.

Sigurd walked towards a young tree that was a few yards off from where they stood. He stopped, and realized that he was being followed by the two strangers.

"You might want to step back." he warned them.

Elphaba and Fiyero halted.

Sigurd drew his sword and started swinging it about, closing the distance between the tree and himself.

They were far away, but they could still see, to their amazement, the sword slice through the trunk of the tree.

"Timber!" Sigurd shouted.

Sure enough, the top of a pine tree crashed just a few feet away from where the Ozians waited.

Slowly and a little fearfully, they walked down the felled tree to its base, where Sigurd was tearing off thin branches with his bare hands.

"How did you do that?" Fiyero asked in amazement.

"I told you," he said, pointing back to the sword, now impaled in the earth again. "That sword can cut through iron. It's the strongest thing in Midgard, most likely."

"Midgard?" queried Elphaba.

"Aye," Sigurd answered. "The middle-world."

"What is Midgard?" she asked again.

"Well, this is!" he answered, speaking as if it should be obvious. He stretched his arms out, indicating to the land about them. "The world of man. The old fathers say there are other worlds, held aloft by a tree that no one can see." He tore off a large branch. "But if no one can see the tree that holds these worlds, how are we to see the worlds themselves?"

"Good point," Elphaba returned.

"So yeah," Fiyero interrupted after a lengthy silence. "Why'd you just cut down a whole tree?"

"We need wood, for spades."

"The whole freaking tree?" Fiyero exclaimed.

"We'll need fire-wood for later." he added.

"What later?"

"For the heart." Sigurd answered, as he began tearing the smallest branches off the one he tore off first.

"Whose heart?" Elphaba asked.

"The dragon's." came the answer. "Regin told me to roast the heart and then give it to him."

"To eat it?" Elphaba asked, a hand going over her mouth.

"Aye." Sigurd replied, as if it were no thing.

"Why?" asked Fiyero.

"I'm not sure." Sigurd answered.

He then set himself busy with the wood. He laid down a long branch, another, much smaller branch and three with sharpened ends. Once done, he whistled aloud.

A large gray horse rode up from the plain and came to a halt just before Sigurd.

"This is Grani." he said, indicating to the horse. "No finer horse is there in all the land."

"I would beg to differ," Elphaba said. "My own horse is fast, and very smart."

"Perhaps," Sigurd said. "But your horse did not have Sleipnir for a father."

"Who?" she asked again.

"You haven't heard of Sleipnir, the horse of Odin?"

She gave him a blank stare.

Sigurd, seeing that she knew nothing of what he spoke, turned to Fiyero.

And received the same response.

"I have much to tell you," he said. Then he turned to Grani, removed a length of rope from off the horse's back. With the rope, he tied the pieces of wood into a make-shift spade.

This done, he tossed it to Fiyero.

"Let's get to work."

* * *

><p>That night, the three of them sat at Fiyero's camp. It was a great distance from the entrance of the small hill, where the pits were being dug. Grani was off by himself and Nessa was close to the camp, close to the warmth of the fire.<p>

To Fiyero's great relief, Sigurd threw a shirt over his upper body as the night grew cold.

"Why is your camp so far away from the pits?" Elphaba asked.

"We don't want our fire to attract Fafnir." he answered.

"Who is Fafnir?"

"The dragon." he continued. "He used to be a Dwarf, the son of Hreidmar. He had two brothers: Ottr and Regin." Looking up at them from across the fire, Sigurd nodded. "Yes, the very Regin who is my mentor."

"I see." Elphaba nodded.

"Ottr and Fafnir were shape-shifters," Sigurd continued. "Ottr would turn into a river otter, and Fafnir into a dragon. But one day, the gods were out fishing and Loki caught Ottr in his other form and killed him. Hreidmar was furious and demanded vengeance. But Loki was under the protection of a blood-oath that Odin swore, and so he could not be killed.

"Instead, Loki invoked the rite of were-guild."

"'Were-guild?'" Fiyero asked.

"Blood money," Sigurd replied. "Loki would give Hreidmar gold in exchange for his life."

"But if Loki was a god," Elphaba stated. "Why would he have to fear for his life?"

"Ah," Sigurd said. "But the gods **_do_** fear for their lives. For it is their doom to fall at the last battle, the Twilight of the Gods: Ragnarok."

Elphaba snorted.

"A god that can die is not worth worshiping." she commented contemptuously.

"You would be wise," Sigurd returned. "to show more respect to the gods. They may be powerless to prevent the Ragnarok, but it was Odin who breathed life into Ask and Embla, the first man and woman. It is Thor, also, whose mighty hammer protects Midgard from the giants." They saw a fire in his eyes as he spoke, and a hand went up to the amulet that hung from his neck.

"And it is Freyr who gives life to the crops and strength to our men when they need it...if you know what I mean."

Fiyero nodded, getting Sigurd's drift.

Elphaba, on the other hand, turned her gaze into the fire.

"I don't believe in anything," she said. "So it doesn't matter to me."

"My father believed as such, so I was told by my mother." Sigurd said. "He thought he was strong enough to face Odin in single-combat on the battlefield. The Alfadir proved him wrong, and broke him, shattering Gram in the process"

Another moment of silence followed, as Sigurd mused on the past.

"Then you should hate the gods for what they did to him." Elphaba answered.

"Oh, it doesn't matter to me." Sigurd continued. "It all happened before I was born. The King who married my widowed mother is a good man, and treats me like a son...no matter what Regin may say.

"Besides," he said, a tiny bit of pride rising in his voice. "Legends say that Sigmund was taken by Odin to Valhalla: a greater ending a warrior could never ask for."

He turned to Elphaba.

"So," he concluded. "as much as you say I should hate the gods because they took my father from me, I know that when I die in battle, I shall meet him in the hall of the glorious dead, where the roof is made of golden shields, where the mead never runs out...and where the brave may live forever."

Elphaba said nothing, her eyes still fixated on the flames, making their dance and dispelling the shadows about them.

Sleep came to Sigurd first, who was the most weary. Fiyero fell asleep first, but something inside Elphaba couldn't make her go to sleep.

She felt empty and exposed without the Grimmerie.

She felt lost and alone, so far away from a real home.

But more importantly...

She missed Glinda.

Sleep closed her eyes at last.

* * *

><p>The morning saw the completion of the pits that Sigurd had begun. With Fiyero's help, the task was soon done. The two men were both shirt-less, sweating after a hard morning's work. Elphaba was sitting on the edge of a hill, watching the two climb up out of the pit.<p>

"So, tell me again," she asked. "Why are we digging pits if we're going to kill a dragon?"

"Fafnir lies over there," Sigurd said, pointing to the largest hill. They saw the mouth of a cave yawning expectantly at the valley before them. "The Glittering Heath. That's where he buried Loki's gold."

"How did he get his hands on it if it was given to his father?" Elphaba asked, helping Fiyero climb the rest of the way out of the pit.

"To fulfill the task," Sigurd answered. "Loki had to fill and cover Ottr's body with gold. There was one spot of Ottr's whiskers, just big enough for a single ring to fit, which Hreidmar forced Loki to cover. So the lord of lies captured the dwarf Andvari and forced him to give up his golden ring, which was the source of his wealth: the Andvarinaut. But Andvari cursed the ring, that whoever possessed it would die. Regardless, Loki put the ring on Ottr's whisker, thus passing the curse on to Hreidmar and his family.

"Driven by greed, Fafnir killed his father and took the gold. To make sure that no one would ever take the gold from him, he hid the gold in the Glittering Heath over there..." He pointed to the cave. "And transformed into a great dragon, forever guarding his gold."

"Why do dragons always guard treasure in the stories?" Fiyero asked.

"The Time Dragon doesn't guard gold." Elphaba answered.

"It guards the Clock," Fiyero added. "That's about as valuable as anything in Oz."

Sigurd was not paying them attention. He was too busy making sure that the pits all had their exits. Elphaba, walking on the soft turf, her boots discarded - she was still amazed to see cute little white toes at the end of her feet, which had before been green - followed Sigurd above-ground until he popped his head out of one hole.

"You still haven't told us why you're digging these pits." she answered.

"Indeed." he said. His head disappeared and suddenly re-appeared a few feet away from her.

"Regin told me," he said, sitting down besides Elphaba. "The best way to kill a dragon is to get at them from beneath. There's no use attacking straight on, the fire will burn you up instantly. And that tail is like a great tree, so an attack from the rear is no use either. And the scales, said to be the hardest stuff in all the land."

"Except on the belly?" she asked.

"Aye," he said, wiping sweat off his forehead. "So I dig a pit, call Fafnir out, then stab him once he walks over the pit."

"But why dig many pits?" Fiyero, walking over to where they were at, asked.

"The old man told me to do so," Sigurd answered. "So the blood wouldn't drown me if I were in one pit."

Elphaba made a face that showed her disgust at the thought.

"Don't worry," Sigurd said. "The old man told me the blood of a dragon makes one invincible." He turned to Fiyero. "Are there outlets at every pit?"

"Yes." he answered.

"Good," Sigurd then rose to his feet. "You should probably return to the camp. The battle is about to begin."

"Shouldn't you, perhaps, put your shirt back on?" Fiyero returned, as he placed his back onto his body.

"No," Sigurd replied. "I need to bathe in the dragon's blood."

Elphaba placed her hand over her mouth as if she were about to be sick.

Fiyero took her by the shoulders and led her back to the camp.

* * *

><p>At the camp, the two Ozians waited, with bated breath, as the battle was about to begin.<p>

"**Fafnir!**" cried the voice of Sigurd.

To their complete shock, they saw the young prince rise up out of the pits, shirtless once again with his sword upon his back.

"**Come out, that I may send you to Hel!**" Sigurd shouted out his challenge.

"What in Oz's name is he thinking?" Elphaba hissed.

"Stay down, Fae!" Fiyero whispered.

But it was barely audible.

A loud roar came from the mouth of the Glittering Heath.

"**By my beard! It has been some time since a mortal has dared challenge me**," a deep, booming voice came from the depths of the cave entrance.

A wave of fire exploded from the mouth of the cave.

But Sigurd had disappeared.

Fear was in Elphaba's eyes.

"Fae, no!" Fiyero whispered.

But she was not listening. She jumped onto Nessarose's back and kicked her off into a gallop down the side of the hill, into the valley.

"Stop!" Fiyero hissed, not daring to raise his voice for fear of the dragon.

A sudden crying neigh from Nessa brought her and the rider to a halt.

Something was stirring at the mouth of the cave.

A long, wing-less _wyrm_ crawled its way out on four feet from the mouth of the cave. Its belly was thick, bloated from years of hunting the animals that lived in this region, and a long gray beard trailed down from its scaly chin.

It must have been at least as long as two of the fabled Quox-wood trees standing on end.

The head was ridiculously huge, with smoke billowing from the nostrils and out of the mouth.

"Hey!" Elphaba shouted out, at the top of her lungs. "Dragon! Over here!"

There was a moment of awkward silence, as something inside Elphaba snapped back against her outburst.

_What the hell are you doing? Do you want to get yourself and your unborn child killed?_

"**What's this?**" the booming, growling voice of Fafnir roared from the bottom of the valley.

Sigurd was still nowhere in sight.

"**A woman dares challenge me?**" growled the dragon. "**You are no Valkyrie. What change do you think you have of killing a dragon?**"

The beast roared in laughter, and started walking up the hill towards her.

Elphaba suddenly saw just what she had done.

But Nessa wouldn't move. She was frozen in terror.

"Move!" Elphaba cried out. "I didn't fix your broken leg so you could freeze up on me! **Move!**"

The horse reared up on her hind legs, then darted down the hill.

Fafnir roared, breathing a wall of fire directly at the oncoming horse and her rider.

But just as it seemed they would be consumed, the horse made a turn to the left, leaving Elphaba nothing more than the intense sensation of heat that comes from being close to a fire.

Though not close enough to be burned, just irritated by the heat.

"Are you mad?" a voice cried out.

Elphaba turned, and saw a straw-colored head popping out of one of the pits.

"Lead him _this_ way!" shouted Sigurd. "Towards me!"

With a quick nod, Elphaba gripped Nessa's mane, urging her towards the right, back down the valley towards the pits.

And towards the dragon.

The pounding of Nessa's hooves upon the turf was drowned out by the booming of Fafnir's clawed feet behind her.

Any second she expected to be burned alive by the dragon's breath.

But there was an even bigger problem directly ahead.

How could they get over the pits? There wasn't just one, but several, and they all had tunnels wide enough for Sigurd to squeeze through in case Fafnir walk over another one rather than just the one.

Surely Nessa could not run over the pits without falling through.

But the Grimmerie was not on hand, Elphaba could not cast a spell.

That day in the attic, she had the Grimmerie with her when she enchanted the broom...

When she was defying gravity.

Now she needed another miracle, but the Grimmerie was not with her, back with those Burgundians.

Colors swam before her eyes, she began to feel light-headed, like how she had not felt in a long while.

Not since she had last had a vision.

But no visions came, just the blackness of unconsciousness.

Or maybe, the dragon had caught up to them, and she was now dead.

She closed her eyes and embraced the void.

* * *

><p>"Elphaba!"<p>

"Fae, wake up!"

A hand slapped her face, and she felt something hot and wet, almost burning, upon her face.

Her eyes blinked open, and she saw Fiyero standing before her, a look of panic and relief upon his face.

Behind him stood a blood-soaked figure that made her give out a cry of alarm.

"Elphaba, it's me! It's Sigurd!" the blood-stained figure said. "It's okay."

"W-Where am I?" she asked. "Am I dead? Why is my face burning?" She gasped. "Where's Nessa?"

"Fae, it's alright." Fiyero said, placing his hands on her thin, bony shoulders. "Nessa's just fine. She got a little spooked, but she's okay now."

"But..." She propped herself up on her elbows, rubbing the side of her head. Was she really bleeding?

"You fell off the horse when she got scared." Fiyero returned.

"Why?" she asked. "Why did N..."

Suddenly it all came back to her.

"Where's the dragon?" she asked, fear rising up into her chest.

"Fafnir is dead," blood-soaked Sigurd said.

* * *

><p><strong>(Horay for a boring action scene! lol, just kidding.)<strong>

**(Yes, Sigurd is extremely good-looking. But don't worry, he's not going to steal Elphaba from Fiyero. He's got his own lady lined up for him)**

**(Any thoughts? Ideas? Comments? If anything was left out in this chapter or went over your head, you can say so and I'll make sure to make mention of it in the next chapter)**

**(Yes, there is a Helheim in Nordic lore. I so wanted to quote the exchange between Sigurd and Fafnir from Wagner's _Siegfried_ rather than rip off that line from the made-for-TV film _Joan of Arc_ [the one with Leelee Sobieski as La Pucelle], but as I did not have it available, I made due. Hope you enjoyed it, or at least recognized where the quote came from :D )**

**(And yes, Sigurd quotes Eomer from LotR. After all, Tolkien fashioned the Rohirrim after the Anglo-Saxon people, so it made sense. lol)  
><strong>


	6. A New Friend

**(AN: Meanwhile, back in the castle of Worms...)**

* * *

><p><strong>A New Friend<strong>

Glinda was on her way back to her room, with a guard on the right and left walking beside her.

Once they entered the hallway, the two ran towards the bodyguards at the entrance of the room.

Glinda gasped silently at the sight she saw.

They were both lying on the ground, as if sleeping.

"Up with ye!" shouted one of the guards, prodding one of the sleepers with the beam of his pike.

"It's to the stocks you'll go," the other stated, kicking the second guard. "For fallin' asleep on your march."

"To say the very least!" added the first guard.

Slowly, the two rose to their feet.

"We weren't sleeping!" one of the guards said.

"Then what _were_ you doing, laying on your arses?"

"There was an old man," the second guard returned. "He walked up and passed his hand over us, then all was black."

"Uh-huh." one of Glinda's escort-guards said in disbelief. "Well get up and to your posts. And don't expect your punishment to be with-held because you fainted at the sight of an old man."

The other guard laughed at the larger one's jest, and then the two of them pushed Glinda back into the room.

The door shut fast behind them, and the grinding of the lock in the key-hole echoed on Glinda's mind.

She was a prisoner here.

But even worse, she noticed something else.

Fiyero and Elphaba weren't inside.

* * *

><p>Once the King discovered this, he sent his guards out looking for them all throughout the castle and the rest of the city of Worms.<p>

Glinda, meanwhile, was stuck in the room, empty and alone, feeling very depressed.

Baggage, alone and without even the comfort of the one she was now starting envy.

Because she got the fairy-tale ending, even though she, Glinda, was the beautiful one.

She rose from the bed where she sat at with a sudden yelp.

A knock sounded at the door.

"Come in." she returned.

Not that it mattered. These people would come and go into her room with or without her permission, she reminded herself.

She was their prisoner, and they did not have to respect her wishes.

The door opened and a young woman entered the room.

It was the young girl she saw behind the throne when they first met the king.

"Hello," she said.

This was perhaps the first kind word spoken to her since her arrival.

"I thought you might be lonely," the young girl said. "Truly, I have not had another woman my age around the castle since I was a little girl. I know it can be lonely here."

Glinda nodded.

"What's your name?" the girl asked.

"Glinda."

"My name is Gudrun," came the answer.

Glinda's eyes examined the young girl carefully.

She was young, perhaps as old as she herself had been when she first met Elphaba all those many years ago. Her golden hair went cascading like a waterfall of sunshine down her back. The face was pale and lovely; a flowering youth at last come into the full blossom of womanhood. A pair of baby blue eyes looked out innocently from the face.

Glinda also noticed a small trinket hanging from a golden chain around her neck.

"You seem troubled, Glinda." Gudrun said, taking a seat across from her on one of the empty beds.

The one that Glinda's friends were supposed to be inhabiting.

"The queen," she admitted. "She has promised me to marry your brother Gott-something."

"Gotthorm." Gudrun answered.

"I don't even know him," Glinda said. "How can I be forced to marry someone I don't even know...someone I may not even like?"

"My brother is a good man," Gudrun answered. "He can be violent at times, and he eats a lot, and drinks much mead, and when he's aroused, he can be deadly. But he's a good man, nonetheless. He'll make a fine husband."

"I don't know," Glinda continued. "But there's something else too."

"What's wrong?"

"My friends..."

"We'll find them," Gudrun assured her. "Don't worry."

Glinda did not know whether to wish that they were found or wish that they remained un-found.

"No, its not that."

"Then what is it?"

"Elphaba, well, she sort of stole Fiyero from me." Glinda answered. "I told myself I could get over it, since it was just a silly crush, but that's not it."

She sniffed, trying hard to choke back tears.

"_I've_ always been the pretty one," Glinda stated. "The beautiful one, the popular one. But now Elphie...Elphaba...she's pretty, _and_ she has the prince...and a baby at that."

Tears came to Glinda's eyes.

Gudrun produced a kerchief from within the folds of her dress and offered it to Glinda.

"I mean," Glinda said through sobs. "_**I**_ was supposed to have the fairy tale ending, not her. What do I get? I get to marry a total stranger!"

Glinda was now sobbing aloud, just like that day at the train station.

Gudrun placed her hand on Glinda's hand.

"I will talk to my father," she said. "We shall hold a banquet tonight, where you shall eat and drink with the King and Queen. There you shall meet my brother, and perhaps things will be different."

Taking the kerchief from Glinda's hands, Gudrun wiped the tears from the blond's face.

"Why are you doing this?" Glinda asked. "You don't even know me."

Gudrun's hand reached down to her lower neck and pulled out the little golden trinket.

Glinda noticed that it was in the shape of a cross, with the likeness of a man stretched out upon it.

"Our LORD tells us not to be forgetful to entertain strangers," Gudrun answered. "To love thy neighbor as thyself."

"It's your obligation," Glinda said, her head lowering.

"Even if it weren't," Gudrun answered, lifting Glinda's head up to her eye level. "It makes me sad to see you cry. Please, Glinda, will you be happy tonight at the banquet?"

"I don't know," she answered, shaking her blond curls about.

"Well, then, will you at least _try_ to be happy?"

Glinda hiccuped a yes.

"Then I shall be happy as well." Gudrun smiled.

* * *

><p><strong>(Long time no update. Well, thought I should, since I've been away for so long. And look at me, making Gudrun a sympathetic character. In the myth, I really hated her and preferred a SigurdBrynhildr. However, this is not 100% Norse mythology [if you want that, check out "Heroes of Asgard" on FictionPress], and on that note, I'm considering changing this from a tragedy into something else...hmmm.)**

**(Oh well, it will give our heroes something else to do besides just observing. Like in the previous installment, they need to take an active role, but not overly active. Ideas and suggestions are welcome, and I hope to have the next chapter up a.s.a.p.)**


	7. Betrayal and the Fire Hill

**(AN: Long time no update. Well, that's what you get when you've got _The Tudors_, IMVU, chores and job-hunting all to do at the same time: in short, no time for writing. I'm getting a bit lazy on this story, because I've already planned a second, non-crossover sequel that explains some of the back-story of an OC featured in _The Great War of Oz_ and mentioned in _Another World...Fellowship of the Ring_. It will be about ancient history of Oz, according to me, but right now it's this tale that is bothering me. Part of me wants to see it through to the end, while another wants to change the story a little and then have our heroes whisked away back to Oz. That's where I need your ideas! Please, for my sanity, review!)**

**(And here we find the next chapter.)**

* * *

><p><strong>Betrayal and the Fire-hill<br>**

The valley was filled with the sound of birds.

The death of the Dragon had brought them back into this valley.

They were now sitting around the fire.

A large spit had been made of branches, and a long one, sharpened to a spear-point, was laid atop the two ends. Impaled upon it was a heart the size of a wheel-barrow.

Sigurd's blond hair was blackened with the Dragon's blood that he had been baptized in at the conclusion of his battle.

Elphaba rested her head in Fiyero's lap.

"What in Oz's name came over you?" he asked. "You shouldn't have gone after the Dragon like you did."

"I don't know," she shook her head. "Fortunately, nothing bad happened."

They said nothing else, as Sigurd tended to the fire.

"So what exactly are we doing with this heart?" Fiyero asked.

"Regin asked for it," Sigurd answered. "Roasted."

"So we just wait for it to be done?" Fiyero asked.

"Should be done now." Sigurd stated.

With one hand he reached out to the heart.

"Hey, isn't it hot?" Elphaba asked.

"If it's done, it will be." Sigurd answered.

"Why not use a stick?" Fiyero offered.

"You can't really tell how tender the meat is unless you use your fingers." Sigurd returned.

He reached out and his fingers touched the roasting meat of the heart.

"OWW! Damn!"

"What's wrong?" Fiyero asked.

"Oh, it's nothing." Sigurd said, waving his hand. "Just burned my finger."

Quickly he brought his singed finger to his mouth.

"I think it's done now." he commented.

Suddenly, he halted, looking around.

"What is it?" Elphaba asked.

Sigurd held his finger to his mouth, indicating quiet.

All that they heard were the sounds of the wind blowing through the trees and the song of birds.

"Can you hear that?" he asked.

"Hear what?" both Fiyero and Elphaba asked.

"The voices."

They both thought he sounded insane.

"Those voices, in the trees." Sigurd continued. "Small voices, like the sound of children, they speak!"

Fiyero looked down at Elphaba. She shook her head.

Both of them looked as if Sigurd was losing his mind.

"I hear it..." he continued. "Something about a woman on a hill surrounded by fire...and the curse of Andvari's ring...and R..."

Silence filled the dale.

Heavy foot-steps sounded from behind them. Turning around, Elphaba and Fiyero saw something that reminded them strangely of Gimli.

This Dwarf, however, was different. His hair and beard were black, like burned pitch in a dungeon at nighttime. The soot of years of working in a forge bestained his face, clothes and hair, seasoning them all with a light coating of gray. A grim fire burned in his steely blue eyes.

"Regin!" Sigurd greeted, turning to the Dwarf. "I have slain Fafnir, and the heart is here roasting. The gold still lies in the Glittering Heath, untouched."

To the surprise of all around, a smile cracked across the Dwarf's face.

"You've done admirably, my boy!" he cried out, a full laugh escaping from his bearded lips. "I have never been more proud to call you my apprentice."

The two noticed that Sigurd was looking rather oddly at the Dwarf.

"Come here, my boy." the Dwarf said, holding out his arms.

Sigurd walked slowly over to the Dwarf and opened his arms to receive Regin's embrace.

The two were now entwined together.

"You're a mighty warrior, laddie." Regin said, patting Sigurd on the back. "A mighty warrior indeed."

There was a flash of silver.

The Dwarf thrust his hand into Sigurd's stomach.

Then again, then over and over, the Dwarf stabbed the blade into Sigurd's chest.

"Sorcery!" growled Regin. "You've bathed in the Dragon's blood! It was supposed to flood your pit, drown you to death!"

"They were right." Sigurd returned, rising up to his full heigth. He was now walking slowly towards his sword.

Fiyero and Elphaba sat on the side, quite forgotten by the two.

"The birds told me you were planning my death," Sigurd said. "It wasn't my well-being you wanted, just a servant. When the Dragon has been slain, you'd just walk in and take your share of the treasure...as much as you could carry, if not everything."

The Dwarf charged at him again, roaring like a bellows.

Sigurd stepped aside, holding his leg out to trip the Dwarf. Regin fell forward onto his face. Sigurd turned him over and placed his foot on the Dwarf's chest, holding him down. With one hand, he seized the Dwarf by his beard and lifted him up to his level.

"I trusted you, you worthless little maggot!" Sigurd growled.

Before either Elphaba or Fiyero could guess what he would do next, Sigurd's second hand split Regin's beard into two forks. These he pulled back, until they could go around his back: it was rather painful and the Dwarf roared in agony. Sigurd now was holding the Dwarf from behind by the two forks of his beard.

As this, Sigurd pushed Regin, his former master, face-first into the fire-pit.

"What the hell are you doing?" Elphaba cried out, jumping to her feet.

"Don't try to stop me!" Sigurd answered, still in the heat of his rage. "I know what I'm doing."

Fiyero ran after him, but Sigurd swatted him with his hand and Fiyero fell down upon the earth, unconscious.

His hand then returned to the Dwarf, pushing him closer to the fire.

Whether by reason of her condition, or her power failed her at the sight she saw, or perhaps because her power meant for her to do it.

Elphaba fainted.

* * *

><p>Morning dawned cold and gray.<p>

"Wake up," Fiyero pleaded, nudging Elphaba's shoulder.

Elphaba slowly lifted her head from off the turf and saw Fiyero looking down upon her.

"What happened?" she asked.

"Beats me." he answered.

She noticed that his nose has been broken.

"You're hurt!"

"That Sigurd character," Fiyero answered, with a smirk. "He hits like a hammer."

"Where is he?" Elphaba almost cried, the memories of last night slowly dawning back upon her. "Where's the Dwarf?"

Silence fell upon the two of them.

Uneasily, Fiyero turned his gaze towards the smoldering remains of their fire.

A large, slightly misshapen skull sat atop the charred wood.

"Do you mean he...?" Elphaba looked like she was about to be sick.

Fiyero grimly nodded.

"Where is he?"

Fiyero gave her a blank stare.

He didn't know either.

A loud neigh brought their eyes towards the one who made the sound.

"Nessa?"

The horse turned her head towards the hill, whose bank had a cave and at its mouth lay the dead dragon.

The Glittering Heath.

A few moments later, the two Ozians were back atop faithful Nessa, who took them from their camp through the soft, wind-blown grassy valley up to the hill-side.

The sound of a horse neighing and a man grunting made them certain.

He was in the cave.

And Grani was with him.

Inside the cave the Ozians discovered a huge mountain of gold - more than they had ever seen in their entire lives put together. Coins, cups, bars, chests, and all manner of precious stones in great heaps and piles.

And between them and the gold stood Sigurd and Grani.

"Hey!" Elphaba called out.

Sigurd did not respond.

He was too busy throwing large bags of gold atop Grani's back.

"Now you listen here!" she returned. "That was the cruelest thing you have _**ever**_ done! Now I'm beginning to wonder if we shouldn't have listened to the old man."

"Why?" Sigurd returned. "Because I gave that scruffy bastard what he deserved?" He was not even looking away from his gold.

"Deserved?" Elphaba queried aghast. "If you wanted to kill him, you could have killed him without burying his face in the fire."

"It's his own fault!" Sigurd answered. "He's been taunting me ever since the King sent me to his tutelage. Every thing I did wasn't good enough for him, and even though I have done all, he tried to kill me. Only the dragon's blood...and the birds...saved my life."

He threw another heavy bag on to the back of the horse, and a golden helmet slid out of the mouth.

"And that justifies your brutal murder of him?" Elphaba returned, crossing from the other side of the horse. "Is that all you know? How to kill things?"

Sigurd's attention was on the helmet, as he bent down and picked it up with both hands.

This angered Elphaba.

"Are you even paying attention?" she spat. "Did your mentor's life mean so little to you that you won't even listen to me when I accuse you of _**murdering**_ him?"

Out of sheer curiosity, Sigurd placed the helmet upon his head.

"**Look at me!**" Elphaba roared, placing her small, pale hands on his shoulders and turning him around.

A scream escaped from her lips and she jumped back in fear.

Even Fiyero found his legs locked, unable to move.

Where Sigurd once stood there now loomed a twelve foot giant, with a body of black rock, eyes of fire and great horns like an ox's coming out of his head. Smoke billowed from out of his nostrils like the breath of a dragon. He did not speak, but a low growl hummed from between clenched teeth, more like black fangs dripping with dark blood.

Even Grani neighed in fright and reared up on his hind legs, terrified.

As soon as the frightful image had appeared, it was gone.

Sigurd was all that was left of it.

"W-What in Oz's name just happened?" Fiyero asked, fear still clutching to every last syllable he uttered.

Sigurd said nothing, but looked at the helmet he held in his hand.

"Let me see that!" Elphaba insisted, breaking out of the grip of fear and tearing the helmet away from Sigurd's hands.

As soon as she put it on her head, a very disturbing change came over her. Both Fiyero and Elphaba jumped back in shock.

The small, spindly figure of Elphaba hunched over, becoming thinner and more bony, and every sharp feature of hers became even sharper, until it looked like a dagger came from her chin and a beak from her nose.

That was when Fiyero noticed something else about her.

She was green.

"What? What are you looking at?" a voice asked.

It came from the form that was once Elphaba's, but it sounded nothing like her voice. It was harsh, venomous and unpleasant. A thousand saws grinding their blades against each other could possibly compare to the sharpness of this new voice.

"Take off the helmet!" Fiyero said.

"Why?" the voice sounded even more like a snarl than before.

"Please! Just take it off!"

Two green hands, that looked fearfully enough like the legs of huge, green spiders, reached up and pulled the helmet off the head.

They both stepped back, afraid of what it might reveal.

All that there was left was the small, dark-haired form of Elphaba, with her pale white skin glowing with the shine of the piles of gold.

"What just happened?" she asked. "You looked at me like you'd seen a ghost."

"Well, when you put that thing on you..." Fiyero said, pointing to the helmet.

"The Helm of Fear." Sigurd answered. With one hand he took it from her. "I took it from the trove and I claim it as my own..." He then held up his hand. "Along with this ring..." His eyes then turned to Grani, and he walked over to his horse, calming it down after the fear it had just endured.

"And all that I can put on Grani without weighing him down." he finished.

Elphaba didn't say anything.

_What did she want with cursed gold_, she thought. _It wasn't like gold was of any use in Oz. Her father was wealthy, but she never got any inheritance of Frexspar's wealth - that was all given to Nessarose. She had spent years as a renegade in Oz, so she was quite used to poverty._

_She might not exactly be a nurturing person, but that didn't mean she couldn't learn to be a mother, even a poor one, as long as she had Fiyero._

That was when her thoughts turned to the future.

And she didn't realize what Sigurd was doing.

Fiyero, however, was observant.

"So you killed the Dwarf, took the gold and now you're just going to leave?" he asked.

"Yes." Sigurd answered, as if that were the only possible choice. "I'm a prince, and now I have gold of my own. But I need something else."

"What?"

"The birds spoke to me." Sigurd answered. "They told me about the Valkyrie on Fire-Hill."

"Come again?"

"Valkyries," Sigurd began. "The choosers of the slain, shield-maidens, servants of the Alfadir. It's said the most beautiful and most powerful of his maid-servants, Brynhildr, was to marry the one who woke her from her eternal slumber."

"'Eternal slumber?'" Fiyero repeated. "You mean she's dead?"

"No, just enchanted." Sigurd answered. "I'm going that way, you can follow if you want to."

"Not until you explain what you did to the Dwarf last night!"

"Betrayal is a terrible evil," Sigurd stated. "What he got was less than he deserved, especially after his taunts."

Fiyero didn't say anything.

He was too busy thinking what his fate would have been for betraying the Wizard...

If such rules existed in Oz.

"Elphaba," Fiyero said, turning back to his love. She still had a very vacant look on her face. "Elphaba! Are you with us?"

She blinked, her head swaying about as if she were drunk, and then turned to Fiyero.

A sharp nod came from her direction.

"Wait for us," Fiyero said. "We're going with you."

"Are you sure?" he asked.

"Yes,"

They were both surprised to hear who had spoken.

"The old man said we should," Elphaba continued. "I think we should stick with you."

* * *

><p><strong>(This chapter just went on forever. I'm running out of ideas here, and I don't know how much longer I can keep up before I decide to leave this story behind [I don't want to, but I'm quickly losing choices]. I've got the next story planned, but it's finishing this one that's becoming a trial.)<strong>

**(Please leave questions, comments and ideas in the review section)**


	8. Glinda

**(AN: Hello again, Wicked-fans! It's been a very long time since I've updated this story, because I've had lots of hang-overs about continuing it. Part of me wants to leave this story, while another dares to leave it unfinished and continue it in a separate story [as you may see later on].)**

**(Original title was "A Feast for the Vain" after the _Kamelot_ song of the same name. However, since it's not going to present the actual feast, I decided to change the name. Now enjoy!)**

* * *

><p><strong>Glinda<br>**

Glinda couldn't remember the last time she had eaten such rich food.

Chicken, quail, porpoise, pheasant, herring, pork, cheeses, breads, sausages and some of the finest wine she had ever tasted. The food was so fattening that she dared not eat too much, for she still had a figure to maintain.

Even though the Queen insisted that Glinda was far too thin and needed more to herself than what she had.

They were eating in the Queen's bed-chamber with Gudrun and several of the Queen's servants and the Queen as well. It was not proper for a woman to eat in public, since it was "a filthy ordeal." Glinda thought that their concerns were baseless and silly.

Didn't these people ever hear of forks and spoons?

Glinda was dipping a piece of bread into her soup when she heard the voice of the Queen.

"You will come with me, girl." Grimhild said.

"But I thought..."

"Don't question me!" Grimhild hissed.

Glinda turned to Gudrun, who nodded to her to do as she was instructed. The Ozian rose to her feet and followed Grimhild down the hallway. It reminded her of the narrow hallway that led to a certain attic in the Palace of the Emerald City.

Immediately, her thoughts went back to Oz. She had sworn before all of Oz to do her best to live up to her name...and here she was, running about after Elphaba. How could she do that to Oz? There had to be something she could do. If she was going to find her happily-ever-after, she had to do it without returning to Oz.

But she had to return to Oz to protect it. Without her defense, it could be helpless: what if the Nome King decides to wage war against Oz? What if there is another like the Wizard who rises up to take his place? What if Madam Morrible escaped from the Southstairs? As silly as it sounded, what if the villain of ancient Ozian history came back to life? The hardened woman of Glinda was fighting with the immature Galinda inside, and neither of them seemed to be winning.

Just then, something hit her that snapped her back into reality.

"I say!" shouted the friar. "Mind where you walk, young strumpet!"

"I'm sorry, sir." Glinda returned.

"Cannot a man of God walk in peace without being ran into by an empty-headed..."

"Silence!" Grimhild commanded. She walked over to the cleric, who was her husband, the King's, confessor. In his arms was a book that Glinda hadn't noticed until now.

"And what is that?" the Queen asked.

"I found it in the room those three strangers were in before they escaped," he commented. "An evil work, the doing of the devil! I was on my way to destroy it..."

Grimhild laughed.

"Destroy it?" she commented. "I say, friar, there's nothing here that would do anyone any harm."

"B-But your Highness..."

"I may be illiterate," Grimhild said. "But I know what letters look like, and all I see here are dazzling white swirls on pages of violet."

"It's in a backwards language, known only to those who are in league with the Devil!"

"How does a man of God know so much about what the Devil's servants do?" Grimhild asked, with obvious arrogance.

"I must know the tactics of the Enemy when I am forced to face them." the friar said. "Now if you will excuse me..."

"I will," Grimhild said. "But this book stays with me."

"But, your Highness..."

"If your God is as powerful as you say He is," she mocked. "He'll make sure nothing happens to Christian King Gjuki's wife, eh?"

The friar walked away, looking very offended by her remark. The Queen, however, continued walking on, with Glinda tagging on behind her.

"Uh, e-excuse me?"

"What is it?" Grimhild snapped.

"If I may, your Highness, could I have that book, please?"

"Why?"

"Well, it belongs to me." Glinda stated.

Grimhild turned to her.

"You can read?" she mocked.

"A little." Glinda nodded.

A laugh escaped the lips of Queen Grimhild.

"Not even my husband knows how to read," she said, still smiling at what she thought was a vain jest. "Only those damn friars know hot read. How can you, an ignorant little girl, know how to read what obviously isn't even real letters?"

"I learned." Glinda returned.

Grimhild scoffed.

"A woman who can read," she said with disdain. "That'll be the day. We're meant to submit, not to rule, only then do we have power."

Glinda had no idea what that meant, but she was glad to have the Grimmerie back.

Even if Grimhild threw it at her, making the little blond teeter back in recoil.

"Now, my dear," Grimhild said, turning to Glinda. "It's time to meet the prince."

* * *

><p>Late at night, everyone else was asleep.<p>

Everyone else except Glinda. She could not sleep. Deep inside the battle was still waging between the two parts of the blond Gilikinese girl's personality: Glinda, who had the potential, the power, to be a hero, to make change, and Galinda, the spoiled princess who only wanted to have her way.

The feast went exactly as Grimhild had planned. It was not, however, enjoyable for Glinda at all. To call Gotthorm a slob would be an insult to the slovenly, to say the very least. To even think of marrying someone with such horrendible etiquette was nothing less than a nightmare.

And she had to marry him!

For some strange reason, her thoughts returned to the Grimmerie. She dragged the book over to the edge of her bed, closer to the light of the candle, and opened the shimmering violet pages.

_This looks interesting_, Glinda thought.

Galinda had no need for magic. She was beautiful enough to have the whole world fawning over her. Then Elphaba became un-green, and Galinda was not only without her fiance, she was also not the most beautiful girl anymore.

_Listen to myself_, she thought. _People will think I'm crazy._

For so long she had been Galinda, it was now almost second-nature for her to act after those well-traveled pathways of her conscious, and sub-conscious choices. Time, experience and the cold, unforgiving world forged Glinda into someone who was trying to grow up, yet still grasping onto the old. That day in Kiamo Ko, when she chose to shoulder the responsibility to taking care of Oz when Elphaba died (when she _thought_ Elphaba had died), Glinda took over. Not exactly two different personalities, but the same parts of one being, one person, still left undefeated.

Now the two were coming to an agreement.

She was still Galinda Upland, after all, and Glinda the Good, a sorceress. She might not be as powerful as Elphaba, but the people never knew that. And now that she had the Grimmerie, she could become even more powerful. Powerful enough to ensure that she would not have to marry Gotthorm.

Powerful enough to have her way.

She was moving faster than she had ever had, a hungry look in her eyes. First she reached into the pocket of her pale-blue dress and pulled out a small sliver of a splinter of white wood. It was all she had left of her staff, the one the Lady had given her. The soldiers broke it when they found her, and all she could recover was this. She needed it once again.

As she placed it down on the floor before her, she noticed a small golden ring upon her finger. It was her engagement ring, the one she wore to the surprise engagement party between Fiyero and herself. She never took it off, for some strange reason. She might not be getting with Fiyero, but she would have her own happily-ever-after, and she needed to start afresh: and she could not do so by clinging to the past.

Her hand reached into her pocket and pulled out a small jewel that looked like an acorn. It pained her to get rid of this, since it reminded her that, once again, she didn't get her way. But she had to do it, she had to get rid of it in order to start afresh.

To finish this.

Her hands moved over the three items - the splinter, the ring and the acorn - and she whispered beneath her breath the words that she had memorized. They were strange to her, and it seemed silly to just speak words that she did not even know what they meant, or what they would do if spoken.

There was a flash of light, and a smile crept across Glinda's face.

It was so beautiful!

* * *

><p><strong>(What did she do? -gasp- I can't give it away yet, it would spoil what is to come! Glinda's becoming powerful, she's reading from the Grimmerie herself...what is going to happen?)<strong>

**(Please please review!)**


	9. Don't Wait

**(AN: I'm thinking about this story a little differently, as something that I will come back to but not yet wholly finish. Right now I'm running out of ideas, and unless I'm fully into this story, it won't go very far. You know what I mean? You've got to put your heart into these stories or you won't enjoy writing or reading them.)**

**(All will be explained in detail later on, and all the loose ends will be tied up...eventually. All credit for the _Volsungsaga_ goes to the original author/Snorri Sturluson the compiler, not I.)**

* * *

><p><strong>Don't Wait<strong>

As fast as Grani was, Nessarose galloped enough to keep up with him. Even laden down with gold, the stallion was built like a war-horse and could carry heavy loads. Nessarose, however, was thin and built for speed. Grani could run fast, like his father before him, but his specialty was carrying as well, and he carried four bags of gold. Nessarose had nothing more to carry than Elphaba and Fiyero.

No wonder she could keep up.

It was close to dusk when they at last came, by long roads, to a stop. The sun was going down, but there was a light coming from a hill still a few miles to the northwest. Fiyero was reminded sharply of a time when he and Elphaba saw Weathertop from afar. It brought back many memories, some happy and some sad.

Times were definitely different then.

Elphaba, however, was thinking of something completely different. Her thoughts kept going back to the Glittering Heath, and what happened when she put on the Helm of Fear. It was nothing more to her than putting on her hat (somewhere in Oz, she believed. It seemed like forever since she wore her favorite tall-peaked hat), but the way Sigurd and Nessarose, especially Fiyero, looked at her when she put it on meant that something else happened. Judging by the way they looked and spoke at her, she knew exactly what happened when she put the helmet on in their presence. They saw her as everyone in Oz had seen her...

As a green freak.

All the hideous memories flooded back into her mind. From her childhood of neglect to being abused by her sister Nessa's nannies and governesses because of their abhorrence for her skin color: especially that first day at Shiz, and the ensuing chaos that happened in Oz.

She did not want to live that again. She had the chance to be normal again and she didn't want to give it up. It was wrong, she knew, to be ashamed of her skin color. It wasn't her fault...or was it? She yearned to be "normal", to be popular: that was what she wanted when she believed the Wizard was actually wonderful. Being the scape-goat of Oz's ire was too much for her.

Didn't she deserve happiness? Didn't she, once in a while, deserve to be selfish? Couldn't she have what she wanted, what she needed, what she had been denied her entire life?

* * *

><p>"There it is!" Sigurd said, pointing to the fire upon the hill. "The Fire-hill. I'll go up there by myself and return when I'm done."<p>

"Why can't we come with you?" Elphaba asked.

"Can that little dog of yours jump through fire?" Sigurd mocked.

Nessarose neighed loudly in protest.

"Be careful." Elphaba insisted.

"Hey, you're talking to someone who killed a dragon." Sigurd returned haughtily. "I think I'll be safe."

"No need to remind us." Fiyero stated. Then a thought came to his mind. "Hey, if you're going to be jumping through fire, why not lighten Grani's load a little bit?"

"What do you mean?" Sigurd returned.

"I mean that gold." Fiyero answered, pointing to the bags on the horse's back.

Sigurd chuckled. "I don't think so. I wouldn't trust anyone with this gold except for me."

He kicked Grani's thighs and the horse took off into a fast run up towards the Fire-hill. The two watched as the war-horse and its rider galloped up the hill and disappeared into the gathering darkness. Soon they were lost to view, becoming a black speck on an already darkening hill-side.

The light upon the hill flickered a little.

Elphaba's world started to spin, colors flew about her eyes and she realized that she was not breathing anymore.

It was her magic all over again.

Her innate magic, the kind that never needed the Grimmerie to work. It was right there, overwhelming her, like a giant stone upon her chest, keeping her lungs from expanding. When her magic was that close, it had to come out, and it usually did, to destructive ends.

But this did not seem that destructive, she was merely floating through this sea of colors and light.

She found herself upon her hands and knees, a heavy burden upon her back. She could not speak, only see what was happening. Something alighted off her back and she saw the large form of Sigurd walk over towards the middle of the place where they were at: a large stone floor, fashioned in a circle, with walls of fire on all sides.

Lying in the middle of the floor was one clad in armor with a helmet upon the head. Sigurd walked over to the figure and removed the helmet to get a better look at it. A fair-faced woman there was, with long blond hair and eyes shut fast, beneath that helmet. Elphaba could have sworn that she was asleep.

In shock and horror she saw as Sigurd's great strength tore her breastplate off as if it were nothing more than old cloth. Beneath was indeed the body of a woman, pale yet built in strength like that of a man. The bare chest was heaving with breaths and suddenly the eyes flickered open.

There was a loud gasp and a pair of hands fell over the chest of the warrior-woman. They were her own hands, though unarmored: Sigurd had torn her vambraces off as well, it seemed.

"What strength has broken my armor?" the warrior-woman asked. She gasped, turning to the mountainous warrior who loomed above her. "Who are you, who've woken me from my slumber?"

"I am Sigurd Sigmundson." he answered. "Slayer of the Dragon Fafnir."

She sighed.

"Long have I slept here," she answered. "bound by the might of Odin, for my crimes against the Alfadir."

"You are Brynhildr, the one the birds spoke of?" Sigurd asked.

She nodded. "Helm Gunnarson waged war against Agnar the brother of Audi. Odin wished that Helm would be victorious, but I chose Agnar. For this crime I was banished from my place as a Valkyrie, forced to lie asleep here, behind walls of fire...to be married like a common mortal."

She noticed that there was eagerness in Sigurd's eyes.

"You're a Chooser of the Slain," he said. "It is said that you are full of the lore of great and mighty matters. As a token for waking you, I would know these things."

She removed her hands from off herself and wrapped them around Sigurd.

"Are you afraid of me?" she asked. "I have brought many mighty warriors to their knees, slain many kings, made men shake with fear."

Sigurd only smiled.

"I fear nothing." he returned.

"Good." was all Brynhildr said.

* * *

><p>It was almost morning. Fiyero had not slept at all, and he looked on the verge of death. He was holding Elphaba in his arms, who was still non-responsive. She had been that way since Sigurd rode up to the mountain, but this was too long. She was not dead, for her heart continued to beat and her flesh was still warm, but she did not breathe and her eyes were rolled back into her skull and her mouth hung half-way open.<p>

Dawn rose upon the earth.

Suddenly a voice called out, clear and carrying over all the sounds of the morning, like a horn upon the fog-buried shores of these lands.

"'_Hail to the day come back! Hail, sons of the daylight! Hail to thee, dark night, and thy daughter! Look with kind eyes a-down, on us sitting here lonely, and give unto us the gain that we long for. Hail to the Aesir, and the sweet Asynjur! Hail to the fair earth, fulfilled of plenty! Fair words, wise hearts, would we win from you, and healing hands while life we hold._'"

Elphaba's eyes blinked.

Fiyero almost cried when he saw it.

"Fae! You're alive!"

She nodded, slowly pushing herself up into a sitting position.

"I'm hungry." she commented.

"How can you be talking about food at a time like this?"

"W-What?"

"You didn't breathe all night! You had me worried!"

Elphaba rubbed sleep out of her eyes and turned to look at Fiyero.

"You look awful." she stated.

"This is nothing," he answered. "You should have seen me when I was looking for you, back in Oz."

"You know," she began. "You never told me why you joined the Gale Force. I thought you had become like everyone else, that you'd changed."

"I had changed, but not that way." he said. "I knew that the Wizard was looking for you, and I thought..."

"Don't hurt yourself." she commented a little playfully.

"I thought that if the Wizard found you, I would never have the time to tell you what I wanted. So I thought I'd join the Gale Force and hopefully find you first. You don't know how many long, sleepless nights I spent, thinking about you, afraid that I'd never get the chance to tell you how I really felt about you, kicking myself in the head for being so stupid, so silly, to not say something beforehand."

He placed his hand beneath her chin.

"I shouldn't have made you wait for me." he answered.

She brushed his hand aside.

"I know I..." Elphaba cleared her throat. "I swore to never think about anything but the Animals...but I wanted to see you too. I was tired of waiting too, a-and when Boq said that there you and Glinda were..."

"Engaged?"

Elphaba nodded. "I knew I'd waited too long. I had to do something, or I'd be trapped in doubt for the rest of my life. I can't live in a world of doubt, Yero."

"Well, there's nothing about me you need to doubt, Fae." He kissed her, feeling truly alive this morning. "I've got you, and that's enough."

She smiled, blushing a faint shade of pinkish red rather than her usual violet.

As soon as she had, her eyes almost exploded to the size of saucepans.

"Something's wrong, Yero." she said, looking up to the hill. "He's not bringing her back."

"Who?"

"Brynhildr."

"Wait, how do you know she's up there?"

"I don't know, I just know it."

Fiyero shook his head. Sometimes he could not make sense of what she was talking about half-the-time when she had these episodes of her magic.

For surely, that was what it must have been.

A horse neighed from the top of the hill. From above, Sigurd galloped down on Grani's back.

Elphaba's prediction was right.

"What kept you?" Elphaba asked.

"I had to...gather some knowledge." Sigurd answered. "Now...we can go."

"Wait, no, you can't!"

"And what makes you think you can order me around?"

"I know who's up there!" she said. "Brynhildr! That's the whole reason you came here. You have to go back for her."

"She's right," Fiyero said, rising up to her side.

Sigurd scoffed. "You're siding with her?"

"Well, you can't keep a lady waiting." he answered. "Believe me, I learned that the hard way."

Sigurd's face wrinkled in thought. Only the singing of birds filled the air between the three as they waited for an answer...anything...

His legs kicked Grani's flanks, making the horse rear up on its hind-legs, before charging back up the hill.

Elphaba smiled at Fiyero.

Things were looking up for them.

* * *

><p><strong>(Yes, a twist! I've changed the story somewhat! I like SigurdBrynhildr better than Sigurd/Gudrun, ergo the change. It may be minor, but I want a different ending to this story than just a sad, tragic one from the original. But how exactly it will end is beyond me: just know that these two will die, though not as they did in the original saga. That was hardly heroic)**

**(And what I've dropped off here was enough mental food to get some people guessing on where I'm going, so if you can I'll give you virtual pie/cake. Yes, that quotation was directly from the _Volsungsaga_, where Brynhildr greets the morning, and her dialogue with Sigurd was more or less derived from it)**


	10. An Unexpected Arrival

**(AN: As much as I have reconciled with the South, and though I'm not 100% Southern, I do respect that aspect of my life [12 years long, in fact], a good deal of my worst experiences were in the South - including moments of profound closed-mindedness to the obvious. For instance, another name for Southern Sweden is _Götaland_, or _Geatland_ by some translations. I tried to tell this to my Senior English class while discussing _Beowulf_ and the whole class laughed me to scorn...even though I was right and that is actually a real word and classification.)**

**(Ranting aside, I'm gonna have to force myself to finish this. Who knew I could actually find myself bored with a tale of Norse Mythology?)**

* * *

><p><strong>An Unexpected Arrival<strong>

The two waited what seemed like an impossibly long time at the bottom of Fire-hill.

"Do you think he'll really do it?"

"Do what?" Fiyero asked.

"Bring her back."

"He left, didn't he?"

"But he might not." she stated.

As if in final answer to both of their questions, there was a loud neigh rising up from the top of Fire-hill. The huge gray form of Grani bounded out of the edge of the fire. It was daylight, the morning was waning away without them, and they could see the huge war-horse at the top of the hill. With another neigh, it sped down the hill as fast as the wind.

At the bottom, beside the two Ozians, the horse stopped. On its back was Sigurd, as same as before, but with him was his guest. A woman about as tall as Elphaba, though not as horribly thin as she, sat on the back of the horse, with her long, strong arms wrapped around Sigurd's chest. They noticed that she was wearing armor, like a man, but had long flowing blond hair that shone like a lake of gold.

"Fiyero, Elphaba," Sigurd said to his guests. "This is Brynhildr."

"_Vel møtt_" she greeted each of them with a nod.

"Hello to you too." Fiyero replied, though he was a little slow, his eyes mesmerized by the two gray eyes of the warrior woman. "My name is Fiyero and this is..."

"Elphaba," she added. "I'm his wife." She then muttered, "More or less."

"Now, if you will excuse us," Sigurd said. "We must be off."

"Going?" Elphaba asked.

"Well yes," he returned. "I must return to Götaland, the land of my fathers."

"Why?"

"Well," Sigurd continued. "I am a prince, after all. I have gold, a horse and a wise woman for my own." Brynhildr smiled at his complement. "Now I've got a kingdom to claim."

"Well, we'll go with you." Elphaba said. "Won't we, Fiyero?"

He nodded. "Yes, of course."

"You should lead your woman, Fiyero," Sigurd commented, with a tiny smirk. "Not the other way. Even so, are you willing to brave the sea to reach Götaland?"

They both nodded.

"Then you can follow on behind," Sigurd stated a little too arrogantly.

He kicked Grani's flanks and the horse took off. Fiyero and Elphaba exchanged glances, shrugged and then urged Nessa to ride on after them.

* * *

><p>The earth moved in huge waves of green turf on all sides as the horses galloped hard across the plain. The pale gray Grani and the black Nessarose tore through the grass like Sköll and Hati across the stars, forever chasing Sunna and Mani until the day the the sun shall die and the moon shall be devoured: the day of reckoning.<p>

Day passed into night, and Sunna returned from the other side of the world to shine down upon the Rhineland.

The morning was still young, with the sun rising out from beyond the hills that led to the Donau River, which the Carolingians called the Danube. The shadows were still long, and the riders were still a little groggy from being woken up early for the next stage of their ride.

"_Se det_!" Brynhildr shouted, pointing towards the top of a distant hill. "_En rytter er på __bakken!_"

Far away, in the direction the shield-maiden pointed, there was a small speck moving upon the top of a hill.

"I wonder who it could be." Fiyero said.

Elphaba, however, was keeping her eyes locked upon that little figure. Her magic was aiding her vision, making it as sharp as the eye-sight of an Elf.

She was smiling.

"Ride, Fiyero!" she insisted.

"But we don't know who it is!" he returned.

"I know exactly who's there," she said happily.

"What about us?" Sigurd asked, a little annoyed that he was being left in the dark.

"It's my friend!" Elphaba said with a smile on her face. "We'll have to part ways here, if that's well with you."

"I will certainly miss you," Sigurd said.

"_Odin være med deg_, _kvinne_." Brynhildr said in farewell. "_Fred være med deg, prins Fiyero._"

Fiyero couldn't help but smile, even at risk of being jabbed fiercely in the rib by Elphaba.

"Oz-speed, both of you!" Fiyero answered.

"Remember," Elphaba said. "Don't make her wait for you, be there for her."

"I will." Sigurd smiled.

Nessarose neighed and ran off towards the speck.

"_Farväl, vänner!_" Sigurd called back, in his native Geatish language.

The horse was galloping faster than the wind. The figure could not be clearly seen, and the morning sun was shining off the blue dress she wore.

Elphaba checked Nessa and lept off faster than Fiyero could tell her to wait. She ran the rest of the distance towards the rider. In response, the rider also jumped off her horse and ran towards her. She threw herself into Elphaba's arms, and the formerly green witch hugged her so hard she lifted her up off the ground.

"Glinda!" she cried. "I can't believe you're alright!"

"Whoa, Elphie!" the blond returned. "What's gotten into you?"

"I don't know," the witch said, tearing up in her eyes. "I'm so happy to see you again." She squeezed Glinda again. "How did you ever manage to escape Worms?"

"I'm not without my means, Elphie." the blond said with a smile. "I'm not stupid, you know."

"Of course you're not!" Elphaba laughed, hugging the blond once more.

Elphaba showed Fiyero the returned blond, to his surprise and satisfaction.

"I have the most splendiforous news, Elphie!" the blond exploded with glee. "I've been reading that musty old book..."

"The Grimmerie?" Elphaba asked. "Do you have it with you?"

The blond pointed to her horse, where it sat on the horse's side.

"And, well," she continued. "I think I found the spell to take us back to Oz."

"You did?" Elphaba exclaimed. Once again she seized the little blond with her arms and lifted her up off her feet.

She was not thinking, did not recall that there would be no Oz to go back to, especially since all of Oz thought that she was dead and gone, not to mention wicked.

"We can finally go home!" Glinda returned.

Elphaba nodded. She turned over to Fiyero and waved him over. The prince brought Nessa closer to them, slowly trotting along-side.

"Are you ready to go back home, Elphie?"

Elphaba bit down on her lower lip.

"I don't know, Glinda." she returned. "Remember how I left."

"I'll be sure to send us somewhere remote," Glinda assured her friend. "Like the Vinkus or the Quadling marshes."

"Good thing you're not..." Fiyero received a painful fist-strike to his shin before he could continue. "Ow...allergic to midges."

"Nice save," Elphaba facetiously replied. She turned back to Glinda. "Okay, I think we can do this."

"If you're going, I'm coming with you." Fiyero stated. "But what about Nessa?"

"She's coming too," Elphaba said.

"How can we manage it?"

"Here," she waved Fiyero closer. Dismounting, he walked towards Elphaba, calling Nessarose over to follow him. Better than a trained hound, the horse followed after him.

"I'll hold onto her leg," Elphaba stated. "She'll go with us."

"Okay." Fiyero nodded. He knelt down at Elphaba's right, placing his hand on her shoulder while she grabbed onto the horse's leg.

"Elphie," Glinda pleaded. "I need your help with this."

"But I thought..."

"I'll never be as good at magic as you, you know that." she continued. "Please, help me."

Elphaba's long fingered hand seized the soft pink hand of her best friend.

"Ready?" Glinda asked.

Elphaba and Fiyero both nodded. As if in realization of what was happening, Nessa bent her fore-legs into a kneeling position.

"I'll speak the incantation first," Glinda said. "Then we do it together, understand?"

"Yes, dearie."

Hand in hand, the two young women began to weave their spell, while the prince and the horse watched in awe as they saw the lights revolving around the two of them: green and pink moving no longer in opposition to each other, but in concert.

The four of them vanished from the face of Midgard.

* * *

><p><strong>(AN: And that's the end of that! Sorry if I sort of ended it abruptly, but I'm just not feeling this story. Wish I could have done more.)<strong>

**(From what I've read from the _Volsungsaga_, it's probably not historically accurate for Brynhildr to speak Norwegian, since Icelandic and/or Faroese is closer to the Old Nordic language of the time. That is my nod of respect to the [good] people of Norway, in homage to what has recently happened in your country. It's sad, and the bastard who did those murders should [content deleted.].)**

**(Okay, enough ranting. I'm still continuing this "Ozian Adventures" series, the musical-verse edition. The new story will be all original, not a cross-over. So maybe you'll enjoy that more than this. Till then, fellow Ozians.)**


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